You Win
by Commander
Summary: Daisy Duck is lonely. And maybe just a little desperate. And, in any event, certainly caught up in a certain duck's charm. Two shot.
1. Friday Night

(AN: Just a couple of notes on this one: first of all, it's a two-shot. It was going to be a one-shot but got ridiculously long, and yet definitely not long or meaty enough to support a whole full-length story. So these two chapters are it.

And secondly, I clearly lost my mind when writing this. O_o

All characters herein belong to Disney. Except for Farmer Jones. He is mine, dammit. :))

…………

"And now, your local 5:00 news…"

Daisy Duck stared at the TV groggily. 5:00 already? Had she really just spent… four… four? _Four hours_ sitting in front of the blasted TV set?

"I can't believe I have four days off of work… it's going to kill me," she muttered, trying to hoist herself out of the couch.

Daisy was a hostess at a local country club. It was a nice, cushy job, a job that paid well and gave good benefits. She threw herself into her work, especially now with Donald in the navy, so much that work had almost become her life. Sure, so she still occasionally went out with friends, but her job was now her biggest driving force in her life, so much that she clearly had no clue of what to do with herself with her days off, prized by almost every worker in almost every field… but not so much by her.

"And just think," she sighed to herself, searching around for the remote, "I have only this to look forward to tomorrow, Sunday, and Monday as well."

She groaned in agitation just thinking about it.

"I need to find something else to do…" She rubbed her caked eyes wearily and glanced out her window. It was a crisp mid-October day, the sun still shining and would be for another hour or so, the weather a little nippy but nothing one couldn't handle with a jacket… she assumed, at least. She hadn't been outside yet that day.

"Well, I can't have that," she said, pulling her jacket on over her shoulders and grabbing the house key from its hook on the wall.

…………

Pekin Park was just a few blocks away from Daisy's house, and she often went there to relax. It covered an area equal in size to four city blocks, and while there was an assortment of playground equipment as well as a tennis court, the majority of the area was fairly open, with walking and biking trails. It was an ideal location for outdoor concerts and fairs.

In fact, before Daisy even reached the start of the walking trail, she saw that the park was the setting of a fair that very day. "Oh!" she said aloud. "Today's the Apple Fair. I completely forgot." She sighed in disappointment. She hadn't thought to bring her purse, and—she quickly rummaged through the pockets in her jacket—nope, she didn't have any money there either. Great. Now she'd be lonely _and _hungry.

_Oh, for Pete's sake, stop feeling sorry for yourself, _an inner voice chided her, and Daisy agreed. Her face resolute and determined, she started down the footpath, almost marching. _I'm going to enjoy this day even if it KILLS me!_

"That sounds counter-productive," she snapped aloud, addressing her inner voice. It gave no reply.

"Mommy, that lady is talking to herself," a little boy said, tugging at his mother's sleeve.

"Shh… don't make eye contact," the mother said, herding her son away from Daisy.

Daisy rolled her eyes. If Donald were there, the two of them would have had a good laugh over that, she was sure… well, okay, Donald would have had a good laugh over it, which would have angered Daisy, which in turn would have angered Donald, ruining a perfectly good day for both of them…

_And to think, _she thought, still power-walking down the path, _I still keep coming back to him._

Calling their relationship on-again, off-again was generous. Sometimes Daisy felt that even calling it a relationship at all was pushing it. They seemed to be at each other's throats far more often than enjoying the other's company. And yet, for all their fighting, there was still a strange sort of magnetism the two of them shared. And in the rare cases when they weren't arguing over something—and often, even when they were—they shared a kind of deep, all-encompassing understanding. She knew he loved her, in his own strange way. And, in her own equally strange way, she loved him too.

Part of the problem was that he couldn't commit. Hard-working though he might be, if an avenue didn't yield almost immediate results, he'd abandon it and move on to the next thing. As concerned as he was with bettering himself, he had difficulty with thinking long-term. And, thus, their relationship seemed to be going nowhere. Donald just took it for granted that Daisy would always be there, in an antagonistic way or otherwise.

He had enlisted in the navy six months ago—truth be told, it had always been what he really wanted—and Daisy compensated with the loss as best she could. Because yes, it had been a loss for her. True, her life was free of drama and the all-too-frequent bitterness from before… but there was nothing to replace it. Strange, really, how much she had learned to love the fighting. Not just love, even—but grow accustomed to it, grow to _need _it.

They had parted affectionately, of course, but their ambiguous relationship still as sketchy and undefined as ever. _Maybe I should start dating again, _Daisy thought to herself. But no, no, in the pit of her stomach she felt she'd still be cheating on Donald, however ambiguous their relationship might have been. Besides, dating in the more traditional sense was so time-consuming, and Daisy honestly didn't have the heart—

"Daisy! Daisy Duck! What a pleasant surprise!"

Daisy screeched to a halt, instantly recognizing the voice despite having not heard it for awhile. "Gladstone!"

Gladstone Gander smiled disarmingly, holding out an arm to steady Daisy (for she had halted so fast that it looked like the might lose her balance). "Just my luck to run into you today—well, not literally run, you're more the one who ran into me!" He laughed. "What brings you here?"

"Oh," Daisy shrugged, trying to regain her composure, "nothing much, just needed to get out of the house—I somehow managed to spend four hours today watching TV."

"Is that all?" Gladstone asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

Daisy rolled her eyes, but good-naturedly. Leave it to Gladstone to take laziness to astronomical levels. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I happened to be passing by, and thought that a caramel apple sounded delicious."

"Have you had one yet?"

"No, actually… I got a little distracted by this blank check I found on the ground…"

Daisy should have been used to Gladstone's logic-defying luck by now, but she still felt her jaw drop in surprise. "Oh my gosh!"

"Yeah, I know…" Gladstone sounded a little disappointed. "I hate checks. That means I actually have to go to the bank to cash them. I'd rather just have the money right away."

Suddenly, two small children, a boy and a girl, ran screaming in defiance down the path, their father chasing after them with two caramel apples. "Come on, kids, don't you want to just _try _one? They're really good, I promise!"

"_Noooooooooo!" _the children screamed, hiding behind two large trees.

The father sighed. "Kids… they're never willing to try anything new!" He turned to Gladstone and Daisy. "I don't want to see these go to waste. Would you like to have them?"

"Would I," smiled Gladstone, amused, happily accepting the apples. He passed one to Daisy and offered her his arm. "Well? Shall we?"

Somewhat apprehensively linking her arm in his, Daisy said, "Alright, how did you do that?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Exactly my point!"

"People just always give me stuff I want. Or I find it." The two birds strolled down the path, arm in arm, Daisy still a little put off by Gladstone's luck (and, yes, his irresistible charm as well), but Gladstone on cloud nine. He took a big bite of the caramel apple.

"So, uh… how have you been lately? I haven't seen you in a long time," Daisy said, starting up a conversation.

"Lucky. What else would I be?" He grinned at her. Although he was eating a sticky apple, his smile still somehow looked perfect.

"Well, you didn't have to tell me _that," _said Daisy good-naturedly. "I was asking about anything _new."_

"Well, I just got back from a trip to Paris."

"_Paris!"_

"Yeah. Would you believe I won a radio show contest? The one hundredth caller? And it was a wrong number, even—I was actually trying to order pizza!"

"Paris! I can't believe it—I've always wanted to go there. How was it—did you go to the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the gardens, the operas—"

"Sure, sure, I did all that," said Gladstone dismissively.

Daisy sighed wistfully. "Paris. You're so lucky. I mean, uh…" She laughed to herself as Gladstone raised an eyebrow playfully—talk about being Captain Obvious. "I wish I could have gone too."

"Maybe next time I'll win two tickets." He suddenly brightened in realization. "Oh yeah. I almost forgot. I got a little something for you in Paris."

"What?"

"I said, I got a little something for you in Paris. A souvenir, you know. We'll have to run by my house and get it later."

"But… why?" Daisy was shocked. True, Gladstone had always taken an interest in her… but only when she was in eyesight. Being told that, apparently, he had been thinking of her even when in Europe caused her heart to flutter alarmingly.

"I remembered once, a few years ago, when we were in that bookstore, and you were looking at books about France—travel guides, or something. Anyway, I just figured you'd like it."

Daisy could hardly speak. "That's… that's very sweet of you, Gladstone. Thanks." She still couldn't get over the fact that Gladstone had remembered something like that. Rarely did he even pay attention to matters that didn't concern himself.

Gladstone laughed. "Well, don't thank me just yet. You haven't seen it yet." By this time, he had eaten his entire caramel apple. With his free hand, he tossed the stick carelessly behind him, but somehow it still managed to land in a trash receptacle. He then licked his sticky fingers clean.

Daisy continued to stare at him, fruitlessly trying to decipher just _what _was going on in his mind, although she had a feeling that the only person on Earth who could understand Gladstone was Gladstone himself—and maybe not even him. His aloof, detached, and yet carefree manner that guided him through life was such a mystery to her—a mystery that clearly needed no solving, for he was who he was, and yet… just like she had in the past, she felt herself drawn to him.

_Oh no. Oh no. Stop it. _The inner voice was back. _Stop it right now. Donald would have an absolute fit if he saw you two right now._

Daisy gulped, a bit nervously, but it wasn't enough to make her run or even back away. First, Donald tended to throw fits whenever he saw Gladstone, period. And second, this wasn't anything new, after all. Even when her relationship with Donald was in its on-again phase, she still dated… no, dated was too strong a word. She still went out with Gladstone on occasion. Although it felt terrible to admit it to herself, Daisy loved the spectacle of being fought over, of seeing both Donald and Gladstone seethe with jealousy when they saw her with the other.

But that wasn't the entire reason, or even the majority of the reason of why she found herself bouncing between the two cousins. Despite the major personality flaws both had—or perhaps _because _of those flaws—she was still irresistibly attracted to both of them.

Gladstone smiled at her warmly, affectionately. Daisy couldn't help but smile back, although her cheeks flushed pink and the warning hisses of her inner voice intensified. It was always a wonderful feeling to be appreciated, liked… _loved? _And even more so by someone whose primary concerns only centered around himself. Somehow she had managed to break, or at least chip at, that ego-centric wall.

"Are you going to finish that?" Gladstone asked, pointing to her caramel apple.

Daisy blinked in momentary confusion. Gladstone was suave, he was charming, he was—yes, she admitted it—sexy; but half the time he didn't seem to realize he was, or when he was breaking the mood.

But then she grinned mischievously, taking a large bite out of the apple, answering his question.

"I don't know about you, but I'm still hungry," he said, undeterred. "Do you want to go out to dinner with me?"

"I'd love to—" Daisy's voice was muffled through her mouthful of caramel apple, and embarrassingly a few bits spit out with her words—"but I'll have to run home and get my purse first."

"No you won't. It's a date! I have that blank check, after all."

"But Gladstone, it's 5:30. The banks are closed by now."

"They are?" Gladstone almost looked pouty. "Why would they do that?"

"I don't know," said Daisy with a shrug, "that's just bankers' hours."

"But that's all the money I have right now!"

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth when a sudden wind picked up, nearly blowing his hat off his head. Quickly unlinking his arm from hers, he brought one hand up to his head, holding his hat in place, while holding out the other arm to his side. And no sooner was his hand in place when a crisp one hundred dollar bill flew into it.

He smiled. "Ah, that's more like it." The wind immediately died down, and he linked his arm in hers again.

"You're the ideal date," Daisy blurted out before she could stop herself.

Gladstone just laughed. "Took you long enough to figure that one out!"

…………

The Italian restaurant Giovanni's was normally so busy on Friday nights that one needed a reservation in order to avoid waiting for an hour or more for a table to free up, but thanks to Gladstone's luck, he and Daisy were seated immediately. Their orders, too, were taken in record time, leaving the two ducks to nibble on breadsticks and sip their wine.

"I haven't been here in years," Daisy admitted, grabbing another breadstick.

"Why not?" asked Gladstone.

"Well… it's expensive, and I just haven't had the time to go out lately… and I don't like going out by myself," she mumbled, hoping she was inaudible.

Gladstone leaned back in his chair nonchalantly. "Surely Donald takes you out to places like this," he said, his voice strangely lax.

"Oh, well…" Daisy kept her tone guarded, not sure what Gladstone was getting at by mentioning Donald, "he usually can't afford a place like this. Funds are tight, you know."

Gladstone smirked. "Yes, my poor cousin. Imagine having to actually work for a living."

"Listen," growled Daisy, "if you wanted to take me out to dinner just to put down Donald, then I'm going to leave right n—"

"Oh, no no, not at all!" Gladstone quickly said, grabbing her wrist to stop her from standing up. "Really, that's not true. I pity him, actually."

Daisy raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Pity him. Sure."

"I don't dislike Donald," said Gladstone levelly. "Come on, what possible reason could I have to dislike him? Besides you, of course."

"Well…" But Daisy's sentence fell flat as she realized that no, of course not, Gladstone had no real reason to dislike _anyone._

He hummed a bit in thought. "Although, of course, there was that birthday incident—"

"What do you mean, besides me?" Daisy interrupted.

Gladstone looked back at her, surprised. "You know. You always seemed to like him better than me."

"That's—not—necessarily true," Daisy stammered. "Then again, it's not necessarily false, either…"

Gladstone chuckled. "You have no clue of your own feelings, do you?"

Daisy laughed uneasily, trying to hide how close his words had hit home. "And you _do?"_

"Sure I do." He looked unusually downcast. "I know that… well, like I said, I pretty much have no reason to hate my cousin, because if he and I both want the same thing, I'll always be the one that gets it. Except… except for _you. _It does make me mad sometimes. Because a lot of times, I want you more than anything else."

Daisy couldn't move. He had never been this revealing with her before.

"But… but why _me?" _she asked. Sure, she was pretty enough, but there were girls far prettier than she even in the relatively small burg of Duckburg. She didn't exactly have a winning personality, either—she did have to admit that she at times had temper explosions that made Donald seem mild as a kitten.

"Well…" Gladstone shrugged, looking for the first time that night truly at a loss for words. "Well, you're… I mean… you're _you," _he finally concluded. "And I like you. Do I need any more reason than that?"

Daisy snorted, a little cynically, but with a sort of bitter smile. "I think you're just interested in me because I'm the one thing that for whatever reason, you can't have."

To her surprise, Gladstone returned her cynical smile. "And sometimes I think that you're just interested in me—and Donald, for that matter—because we're the only people you know that you can't figure out."

And yet another home run hit.

"I—I'm not talking to you anymore," Daisy huffed.

"Don't like being told your own feelings, huh?"

"That is _not _the only reason I like the two of you!" Daisy hissed.

"Now we're getting somewhere," smirked Gladstone.

"I need another glass of wine," Daisy snapped.

"You've already had two."

"I want another one!"

"Well, here's the waiter now."

The waiter came to their table, setting Daisy's meal in front of her. "Sir," he said, addressing Gladstone, "I'm sorry, but I accidentally dropped yours in the kitchen. I'll get another one out to you as soon as possible."

"Oh, uh… alright," said Gladstone, a little nonplussed.

"Again, I apologize—"

"Hey," Gladstone interrupted, "while you're here, my date would like another glass of wine."

"Of course. The Bordeaux again?"

"Uh—yes please," Daisy stammered.

"Right away." The waiter dashed off.

"The waiter _dropped _yours?" Daisy said, astonished.

"Yeah," said Gladstone, looking only a little disappointed. "What a bummer. Now I'll have to wait."

"That can hardly be considered good luck!"

"You don't know that for sure. The one he dropped could have fungus on it, or something, making it lucky that I didn't get it. Sometimes I have to wait for my luck."

"Really?"

"Really. But you don't have to wait to eat your food! Can I try a bite?" He reached over with his fork before she even answered.

"Y—yes, of course," Daisy said, after his fork had already speared her manicotti.

In fact, it turned out lucky for both of them that Gladstone had to wait for his food. While they waited for his, they both ate hers, chatting about their lives (Daisy's filled mostly by work, Gladstone's filled mostly by luck), their remarks on the food and atmosphere of the restaurant, their shared memories. They had only just finished her meal when Gladstone's lasagna arrived, and the waiter informed them that to compensate for the wait, the cost of the lasagna would be subtracted from their final bill.

"Your wine was expensive," Gladstone commented when examining said final bill. "This one hundred dollar bill should just about cover the cost exactly. Luckily I got my lasagna for free."

Daisy giggled. "Just like you said, you had to wait for your luck." After her three glasses of wine, Daisy wasn't drunk, but she was feeling very giddy and relaxed.

"Of course! I told you it would turn out lucky for me in the end." He stood up and offered her his arm. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"I still have to give you that present I bought for you in Paris, remember?"

"Oh!" She immediately jumped out of her seat and grabbed his hand. "Then to your house we go!"

…………

"It's… it's _beautiful…"_

Daisy turned the Paris snow globe over in her hands, amazed at the detail of the carving on the base and of the miniature model of the city inside the globe. Gladstone watched her, delighted with her delight. They were both lounging around on his living room floor.

"It plays music, too," he said. "Wind it up on the bottom. It plays the French national anthem."

Daisy found the winder and gave it a few turns. Not only did music come out from the globe, but lights in the buildings in the globe flickered on, making it look like a snowy night. "I love it," she sighed wistfully. "I'm sure it's almost as pretty as the real city. Thank you so much, Gladstone."

"It's nothing." Gladstone reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "A beautiful gift for a beautiful lady, after all."

Daisy batted her eyes—she knew she was being flirtatious but was past the point of feeling guilty about it. "You didn't just compare me to Paris, now did you?"

"Not Paris," smiled Gladstone, "just the snow globe."

"You're terrible," she laughed.

Gladstone leaned on his arm with a bit of a sigh. "Well, it's getting late. I suppose you'll be wanting to go home soon. Your home, I mean."

"Heck no!" Daisy cried out abruptly, much to Gladstone's surprise. "What would I be doing at home right now? Sitting around and feeling sorry for myself, that's what. I've had more fun tonight than I've had for a long time."

"You need to get out more often," said Gladstone, boldly scooting over closer to her.

"I can't," said Daisy playfully. "My standards for men are much too high. I expect to be pampered."

"I know that." He put his arm around her shoulder; she complied by scooting closer to him, the two close enough to cuddle. "That's why I pamper you."

"Nobody pampers me the way you do," she murmured, their beaks nearly touching.

"Nobody _can." _He now had both arms around her, and he began to lean her backwards, as if to lay her down on the floor. Daisy's heart pounded in complete excitement, without an iota of apprehension.

"Oh, wait!" Gladstone suddenly said, abruptly letting go of Daisy. She hit the floor with a small thud.

"What?" she growled, her sudden irritation springing from more than just being dropped. She needed a mask for the panic that had finally set in, realizing just what she probably would have done had they continued like that. Regardless of Donald being out of the country, regardless of her constant and explicit shifting between the two of them in the past—it would still be _cheating, cheating _on Donald, who was always so faithful to her, except when there were pretty girls in the room—wait.

"I just remembered I have another way to pamper you." He scrambled to his feet. "It's in my bedroom. Come on."

Daisy's eyes bulged. "It's _where?"_

Gladstone blushed, realizing the connotations of what he had just said. "I don't mean _that. _Not yet, at least," he added with a suggestive wink. "But what I'm talking about now is a diamond necklace."

"You're full of shit," said Daisy simply.

"Am not. Come on." He gave her another wink. Had Daisy been standing up, she was sure her knees would have started buckling. Hard to believe someone as smooth and charming as Gladstone was related to awkward, explosive Donald, she marveled to herself.

Daisy sighed. "Alright, you win." She climbed to her feet.

"I always win."

"I don't believe you about the necklace."

"Why not? Even if I didn't have it now—although I do—if I wanted to get one for you, I'd get it." He led her to his bedroom.

"While you're at it, I could use a nice new handbag, too."

"Hey, just say the word, and I'll find one for you." He started rummaging through a drawer. "I don't remember exactly where I put it, but it's in this room somewhere, I'm sure of it."

"So how did you happen to come about _this?" _she asked him, feigning annoyance.

"The diamond necklace? I found it. What else?"

"And you just _took _it?"

He turned his head to look back at her for a moment, good-naturedly rolling his eyes. "What else would I have done with it? I looked around, of course, to see if someone had dropped it, but no one had—when I find stuff, no one else is ever looking for it."

"That's utterly ridiculous," Daisy snapped.

"It's _lucky," _Gladstone countered. "Well, kind of. It's not exactly huge or anything. I've found much larger diamonds before. Oh, here it is!" He pulled out of the drawer a silver chain necklace with a brilliant diamond pendant, about an inch in diameter.

Daisy drew in her breath. "Oh my God…"

"Now _that's _more the reaction I was hoping for," he smiled. He unclasped the chain and gently brought it around Daisy's neck, Daisy shuddering at the touch of his sleek, nimble fingers. After hooking it, he brought one hand down to examine the pendant, keeping the other just barely touching her neck, and looked back and forth between it and her eyes.

He sighed, a little disappointed. "I was afraid of this."

"What?" Daisy asked, completely nonplussed.

"This diamond doesn't do you justice. It's not pretty enough for you. You deserve far better."

What little bit of self-control Daisy had regained was thrown out the window with those words.

"You win," she murmured, her hands instantly finding their way to his chest—or rather, the buttons on his jacket as she undid them one by one.

Gladstone's hands were instantly at the edge of her blouse. "I told you, babe," he murmured in her ear, "I _always _win."


	2. Saturday Morning

When Daisy awoke the next morning, she was surprised to see the room already filled with sunlight. Not yet fully awake, and also loath to break away from Gladstone's embrace, she tilted her head in a way that she could see the clock… and groaned.

"Gladstone, wake up," she said, gently shaking him awake. "It's 9:30."

Gladstone groaned as well. "That early?"

"You mean that _late."_

"No, I mean that _early." _

Daisy smiled. "Well, normal people are usually up before this."

"Even on a Saturday?"

"Yes, even on a Saturday."

Gladstone finally smiled back at her. "Well, that's why I thank my lucky stars that I'm not normal." He kissed her on the shoulder and released his hold on her, Daisy somewhat reluctantly releasing her hold on him as well. He rolled over and out of bed, stretching. "Since I'm up, I guess I'll take my shower now. You can have it when I'm done. While you're waiting, feel free to go to the kitchen and have breakfast, I should have… some…" He paused and thought for a moment. "There _should _be some food in there. If not, just wait for me and I'll get you some. Oh, and…" He grabbed his bathrobe from a chair and threw it to her. "You might want to wear this."

Daisy grabbed it, suddenly remembering that all she was wearing was the diamond necklace. "Thanks."

He made his way into the bathroom, and she stood up, stretching before tying on the robe and walking to the kitchen, desperately trying to avoid thinking of just what she had done. But that was all but impossible—her mind seemed to have it on constant replay, wanting to relive the ecstasy over and over again.

As she could have guessed, Gladstone had been striving for his own pleasure first and foremost, guiding her hands and legs to where _he _had wanted them. Not that it hadn't been pleasurable for Daisy as well, but that had been merely a side-effect, an added bonus to the intended goal.

But what Daisy couldn't stop thinking of was the _after._

They had laid on the bed, breathing heavily, their energies spent. Gladstone's head rested on Daisy's chest, moving up and down with her breathing. Suddenly, as if a child noticing a shiny new toy for the first time, he brought his hands to her left breast and laid them on top of it, but gently, with no obvious sexual undertones. Daisy looked at him, a bit confused, but his expression was that of a surprised, delighted child.

_It's my heartbeat, _Daisy suddenly realized. _He's mesmerized by… my heartbeat._

He looked up at her, his wonderment now directed at her eyes, and her heart suddenly started to thump faster, her stomach bunching up in knots, her limbs shaking, and she let out a shaky exhale that wordlessly let him know the effect he had on her. For she had realized right then, that, for reasons that stemmed more from the fact that she was the one thing he wanted that he actually had to make an effort to get, more from the fact that she was yet another way he could one-up his cousin, even more from the fact that she was just pretty…

…she realized that he loved her. In his own strange way, he loved her.

But what had made her shake even more was her realization that, in her own strange way, she loved him too.

_Damn love triangles, _she thought to herself, opening the refrigerator. _I almost wish I was one of the ones fighting on the OUTSIDE, and not the central force INSIDE the triangle… _

She opened the door to the refrigerator, to find it depressingly empty. Sighing, but not all that surprised, she rummaged through the cupboards—still nothing.

She plopped down at the kitchen table, grabbing the paper (yesterday's) that was lying there, and tried to get herself to focus on news she had already read.

Far easier said than done.

_It was because I had had a lot to drink, _Daisy convinced herself, ignoring a nagging reminder that she really hadn't had _that _much. _It was because I was caught up in the moment, I was lonely, I wanted companionship, all that… I just wasn't thinking clearly. It meant nothing. Nothing at all._

Except… it _had _meant something. That was the whole problem.

She growled, angry at herself for making this so complicated, and grabbed a pencil and tore the paper open to the crossword puzzle.

_Of COURSE it should be complicated. Don't you realize you just cheated on your boyfriend—you just slept with his cousin, for goodness sake!_

"Not listening," Daisy snarled to herself.

_Right, not listening—just talking to yourself. Admit it, you just like attention, and you'll take it from whoever will give it to you._

"Not. Listening." Daisy's voice was sharper and terser that time, clearly giving the order to her conscience to shut its trap.

_You're a whore._

"I am not," she whispered. "I… I just have two boyfriends, that's all."

_Oh God. I give up. You're impossible._

"Good." She took a deep breath, formulating arguments should her conscience return. Really, it was _good _of her to finally give Gladstone what he wanted! She had been leading him on—along with Donald—since the sixth grade, for goodness sake! It really wasn't fair to him to flirt with him as much as she had with Donald, and yet give Donald the lion's share of the rewards. Now she had slept with _both _of them, putting them once again on more or less equal footing. Besides, Donald was out of the country—he'd never know! There was no way he could _ever _find out, in fact, because for Donald to find out would be incredibly unlucky to Gladstone, and nothing unlucky ever happened to him. Oh yes, everything was equal, everything was fine. Things would continue on as they did before.

Daisy sighed, dropping the pencil, not even pretending to work on the crossword puzzle anymore. "But is that a _good _thing?" she murmured helplessly.

Had all she accomplished was to run around in circles? For awhile now, her relationship with Donald had felt serious to her, even though the two of them never vocalized any change. It was because Donald couldn't commit, she knew perfectly well. But what had she done now if not just doubled the problem? Gladstone was even worse at commitment than Donald was.

"I should have walked away," she sighed. She should have walked away all the way back in the sixth grade, back when this had all started—when those two cute boys in her math class had taken notice of her and she, relishing the attention, played along with both of them.

_It really is my own fault, then, _she thought to herself sadly. _It's my own fault because… I have just as much of an ego as they do—maybe as big as both of theirs combined! I crave attention above all else._

"It's more than that," she said softly. "I crave… I crave being loved." _Well, great going, now you're loved by and in love with two different people. How does that feel?_

She grabbed the pencil again and brought it down forcefully to the crossword puzzle again. "Four letter word for misery—LOVE," she said aloud, scrawling it in. She then dropped the pencil again, glaring defiantly at the paper.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Gladstone had entered the room. Daisy jerked up in surprise. He looked mildly concerned, one eyebrow raised, the feathers on his head perfectly curled, his jacket perfectly pressed, looking every bit the fashionable dandy that he always did… how the hell did he do it?

"You—don't have any food," Daisy spat out. Which was the least of her worries at this moment, but it was the only one she would dare admit to him.

"No food? Impossible." He swung open the fridge.

"All you have in there is jelly," Daisy said. "And you don't have any bread to make toast. I checked."

"Well then, I'll get you some." He opened the window above the sink and leaned out expectantly. Daisy also leaned over expectantly, knowing that by some inexplicable stroke of luck he'd get the bread, but still wanting to see exactly how this would happen.

The rumble of a delivery truck indicated that they wouldn't have to wait long. It drove right past the house, not stopping, but it did hit a pothole conveniently situated in the road just outside the window. A loaf of bread came flying out of the truck and into Gladstone's outstretched hands. He handed it to Daisy. "Anything else?"

Daisy couldn't help but smile. "Well, an orange would be nice…"

Gladstone leaned out the window again, just in time to see a second delivery truck, this one filled with produce, immediately behind the first. It too hit the pothole, and two oranges flew out of the truck and again into his hands.

"I only wanted one," said Daisy.

Gladstone smirked, tossing one of the oranges to her. "This one's for me," he said, indicating the one he kept. He sat down at the table and began to unpeel it, somehow breaking the peel with just his fingers.

Daisy stood up and went to the refrigerator, pulling out the jelly. "Uh, Gladstone, I hate to be a bother, but…"

Gladstone sighed. "What now? Are you going to make me lean out the window again?"

Daisy rolled her eyes, although she felt the corners of her beak once again tug up into a smile. "Lord forbid you actually have to go to the store and _buy _your food."

"Hey, sometimes I _do _have to!" Gladstone protested. "Luckily I usually find money along the way to buy it, although it's such a pain to carry the groceries back!"

"You might have to today," said Daisy, putting the jelly along with two butter knives on the table. "We need milk."

"What's wrong with tap water?"

"Gladstone!"

"Alright, alright!" He sighed and moved to get out of his chair, but the sound of yet another delivery truck, along with voices from outside, stopped him.

"Farmer Jones," a voice cried, "you're plum crazy to transport your milk in an open-air truck like that! Don't you know it'll go bad?"

"No it won't! My cartons are thermos-quality, and besides, it's not that long of a drive from my farm to the store! Buying a freezer-on-wheels just isn't worth the money!"

"Hey, watch out for that—"

BUMP!

"—pothole!"

Even though Gladstone wasn't even at the window, the carton of milk still flew perfectly through the open window and landed right in the middle of the table, not upsetting anything else set there.

Gladstone smiled smugly, settling back down in his chair. "Well. Lucky me," he quipped.

Daisy quickly closed her mouth—once again, her jaw had nearly dropped all the way to the table. "And if I said I wanted authentic Thai food, would a delivery truck from Asia somehow find its way in front of your house and hit that pothole too?"

"Don't be silly," said Gladstone. "It would come from a plane that had to empty some of its cargo, more likely."

"Oh, of course," said Daisy sarcastically. "Forgive me for not being _logical."_

"Well, it's early yet," said Gladstone in all seriousness.

"You're impossible," she said.

He looked honestly confused by that sentence. "Impossible? How so?"

"Because you're—" She had started off harshly, but stopped herself short when she looked him in the eyes; he looking back at her confused, a little hurt, the orange he had inexplicably obtained poised in his hand, already half-eaten.

"…perfect," she finished in defeat.

He laughed.

"And you're not so bad yourself."

…………

Daisy had eaten, showered, and freshened up quickly, and now Gladstone was walking her back to her house. She walked somewhat quickly, her head down, focusing on the sidewalk, not wanting Gladstone to see her expression… although Gladstone probably wouldn't have paid much attention to her, anyway. He too was looking at the sidewalk, and was periodically finding money and trinkets scattered on the ground. They all seemed to be on _his _side of the sidewalk, Daisy noted. Not that she was at all surprised.

But she couldn't put this off forever, she knew.

"Gladstone, I… I need to be honest with you," she began.

"Another dollar bill! Someone's wallet must have bust open or something—"

Daisy grabbed the back of Gladstone's jacket and yanked his head up from examining the sidewalk. He gave a yelp of surprise, but Daisy didn't loosen her grip. "Would you stop being lucky for just five minutes and listen to me?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Daisy almost lost her patience completely, making a move with her free hand as if to slap Gladstone. He grabbed her wrist in midair, though, stopping her before she could actually hit him. She struggled against him, fuming, but her anger slowly easing by degrees.

"I'm sorry, really," Gladstone said quickly, and surprisingly sincerely. "I'll listen. I can't stop being lucky, but I can stop looking at the ground."

"_Thank you." _She started walking again, and Gladstone followed, his grip on her wrist easing and sliding down so that his hand was now in hers. She looked at him again, surprised that he was actually keeping his word and not looking at the sidewalk, his gaze instead fixed attentively at her.

Their eyes met. Daisy paused, her heart starting to thump again. This would be so much easier if he really _was _just a narcissistic, selfish braggart. He _was _all that, of course… but starting last night, she was beginning to realize that there was more to him than all that and his astounding luck.

"I just want you to know," she finally blurted out, "that I'm lonely, I'm desperate, I was caught up in the moment last night and acting on impulse, and… just don't read too much into it, alright? _Please _don't read too much into it."

He stared at her, his mouth agape, perhaps for the first time in his life truly speechless. Daisy turned her head away from him. "I'm sorry, I… it's just that…" She turned back to him. "I had an _amazing _time with you. And I meant… everything… everything that I did and said, I really did mean it…"

"I… I don't understand," Gladstone said.

Daisy sighed and resumed walking, Gladstone again walking with her, their hands still joined. "What I mean is that I shouldn't get involved with you like this… I _can't… _I mean…" She gave him a small, apologetic smile. "There is Donald."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"Yes," Gladstone finally muttered, breaking the silence. "There _is _Donald. And that's what I don't understand."

"Surely you must know how I feel for him," said Daisy.

"You really love him, then, don't you?" said Gladstone, looking back up at her. Daisy looked back at him, surprised to hear no real malice in his voice.

"I… yes," she said softly. It seemed strange to say it aloud… she honestly couldn't remember ever saying it aloud to Donald, at any rate. Their love for each other was something both of them knew was there, and something that didn't need saying.

"Just like I said yesterday," said Gladstone. "You always did like him better than me. But I figured… I figured that someday I'd finally have you, that you were just one of those things I had to wait for… and I had to wait a really long time," he added vehemently. "So last night, I thought that my waiting finally paid off, I was finally lucky with you! But now I have to wait more, either that… either that or there's someone _better _than you out there and I'm supposed to be with _her._ Hard to imagine _that _being true, though," he mumbled.

Daisy looked at him, quizzically, touched, amused, but also a little sadly. His reliance on his luck was almost a setback in this circumstance. "Maybe this is just meant to teach you that you can't wait for love to happen, you have to _make _it happen."

To her surprise, he returned the quizzical stare. "Did you say _love?"_

Daisy's heart stopped beating for a split second. Damn. She hadn't intended on revealing that to him.

"And now you know why I can't continue on with you like this," she finally sighed in resignation. "I don't want to hurt Donald… and I don't want to hurt you, either."

"But Donald doesn't have to know!" said Gladstone. "He's out of the country, right?"

"That doesn't make this _right, _Gladstone! An affair is still an affair!"

"But back in high school, it was perfectly alright for you to bounce between the two of us with no real commitment to either, right?" He was smirking at her, almost sardonically.

"I'm committed to Donald now," Daisy snapped in retort.

"Does that mean your relationship with him is different from when we were younger? I mean, it wasn't all that long ago that you dated me, and Donald was right there! Turning a very alarming shade of red, I might add."

"For your information—" But Daisy stopped right there. Yes, she said she and Donald had been dating for a number of years now. But what was the day they counted as their anniversary? A day of one of their normal dates—dinner, fighting, a movie, more fighting, and then some more fighting before they suddenly kissed in the movie theater parking lot. And it wasn't even their first kiss, either. But it was enough to make Daisy remark, "Does this mean we're dating?" and Donald to nod dumbly in agreement. Besides that one statement, their relationship hadn't changed much at all… they saw each other more, and started sleeping together, but even that was more often than not on the verge of hate sex, their frequent anger at each other bubbling over into the most basic and instinctual of violent desires.

"I… I can't believe I've gotten myself into this," Daisy moaned helplessly.

"Daisy. Daisy. Stop. Don't fall over." Gladstone held her gently by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, Daisy surprised to discover that they were already at her front door. "Look, you said it yourself, you enjoyed your time with me, right?"

"Yes—"

"You're glad you ran into me yesterday?"

"Yes—"

"Do you regret anything you've done in the last twenty-four hours?"

She froze, the words caught in her throat. "N-no," she finally murmured. "The only thing I regret is that I spent four hours watching TV yesterday afternoon…"

"Well then, just calm down, take a few deep breaths… you're thinking about this way too much. Don't you understand that you _deserve _to be happy? That you shouldn't just sit around all day and feel sorry for yourself? And I can make you happy. I can make you happy more than anyone else in the world."

"That's quite the claim," Daisy murmured, although realizing that Gladstone actually had the means to back that assertion up.

Gladstone suddenly leaned in very close to her. "So when Donald's in town, and if he makes you happy, then by all means, do whatever you want with him—I think you're crazy, but for goodness sake, just stop feeling guilty about this! You never did before. And when he's _not _in town, don't deny yourself what you want."

Daisy didn't have time to respond, because right after he finished speaking, he kissed her, and although her knees started buckling and shivers starting running down her spine, she still found her arms had made their way around his neck, her hands on the back of his head, pulling him in even closer.

After a few seconds he pulled away, Daisy quickly taking a step back as well.

"Well, um… thank you for the date, Gladstone," Daisy finally said, nervously wringing her hands.

Gladstone slowly smiled at her. "I… can hear your heart beating from here."

Daisy flung a hand over her chest, embarrassed, trying to stifle the sound.

"Thank _you _for the date," Gladstone continued. "My waiting paid off, at least for now." And with one last smile, he turned and ambled off, but not without looking back at her and remarking, "Enjoy your necklace and snow globe. Next time I see you, I'll have something else for you."

"You… you bastard," Daisy said helplessly.

Gladstone said nothing to that, only broadening his smile before turning back around and continuing on the sidewalk back home—stopping along the way to pick up something; more money, no doubt.

Daisy watched him go, one hand still on her heart, the other gently fingering the diamond necklace still around her neck.


End file.
